


Arrested Revolution

by The_Carnivorous_Muffin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Attempted Murder, Comedy, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fatherhood, Female Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, One-Sided Attraction, Sibling Rivalry, Violence, arrested development - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Carnivorous_Muffin/pseuds/The_Carnivorous_Muffin
Summary: Lord Voldemort, by choosing to not use the killing curse on the young Harry Potter, survives and conquers Britain. He also kidnaps Harry Potter, attempting to kill her while expending as little effort as possible, has an illegitimate daughter via his number one cultist, punishes spies, attempts world domination, and gets absolutely nowhere with any of this.





	Arrested Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Now, the story of a sociopathic revolutionary who conquered a nation and the little girl who managed to destroy everything, it’s Arrested Revolution.

A small, almost waifish looking, girl stands at the edge of a large ensemble of wizarding Britain’s elite. She’s dressed in classic green robes, embroidered in silver with the Gaunt crest, that are at least two sizes too big for her frame. Whenever anyone looks at her she gives them an awkward, terrified, smile, all the while clasping her hands together and trying and failing to keep them from shaking.

This is all well and good because so far no one has bothered to talk to her or even approach her.

This is Harry.

For the past seven of the eight years she’s been alive she’s lived with Lord Voldemort, whose made it a pastime of inventing new and exciting ways to dispose of her, including but not limited to, blood loss, beheading, asphyxiation, poisoning, drowning, hanging, dark magic, and attempting to suck her soul out of her body.

None of them have worked so far.

This isn’t the first time she’s been in public, isn’t even the first time she’s met some of these people, but none the less every time she is brought out into public, and every time even the slightest thing doesn’t go according to plan, it usually results in extreme pain and discomfort for her.

The fact that this is the long-awaited victory day, the disbanding of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s exile to the continent, as well as Lord Voldemort’s coronation as emperor of Great Britain, means that everything must be perfect.

This is unlikely to happen. 

And right now, she’s understandably nervous.

Past Harry, standing in a corner, cringe smiling at everyone who looks in her general direction, standing in a throng of smiling sycophants the most notable of which is a young woman with dark hair and eyes and a sensual smile, is a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man that looks like an unholy cross between the suave sophistication of James Bond and the ruthless gunslinger edge of Clint Eastwood.

This is Lord Voldemort, or else Tom Riddle for those who have a death wish.

He’s bored.

He’s listening, with a rather glazed expression, to a recounting of the latest battle between Dolohov and Alastor Moody. As it is, now that he considers Britain conquered, he feels slightly overwhelmed by the fact that now he must go about actually managing it rather than just burning it to the ground, he also wonders if he can’t just skip that part and go conquer France and the rest of Europe.

Dolohov, already too many glasses of champagne in, slurs,“…And then I shot him right in that twisting bloody eye of his and…”

“Oh, do shut up Dolohov, I’m sure our lord wants to hear something far more interesting,” This is Bellatrix LeStrange, very recently Bellatrix Black, “Would you like to hear of my battles, my lord?”

Bellatrix Black, dark haired, dark eyed, beautiful young witch in her prime, is everything any cult-leader would want in a devotee. However, perhaps because of this very quality, as well as her exponentially growing level of devotion as the years pass by, her cult leader in question has grown more than a little unnerved by her presence over the years to the point where, if this was any other day and any other celebration, he probably would have left by now if only so he didn’t have to be in the same room alone as her.

Bellatrix leans in, her lips almost touching her lord’s ear, and whispers, “I cut off the hands of thirty blood traitors, and when they were sobbing on the ground, I fed them back to them like they were dogs.”

Bellatrix breaks into maniacal laughter, failing to notice when no one else joins her, including her increasingly exasperated lord.  Grimacing particularly fiercely, although this is hardly different than his usual expression, is Severus Snape.

Severus is an ex-cultist, having stopped guzzling the Kool-Aid with the Potter massacre and the death of Lily Evans seven years prior. For the past seven years, he’s been acting as Dumbledore’s mole inside of the Death Eaters, all while playing his role as the mole inside of the Order of the Phoenix.

He considers himself largely successful, in that he hasn’t died in the process, but the intelligence reports he’s managed to get for both have apparently amounted to nothing.

Now that the war is over and Dumbledore has been forced to abandon the country, Severus Snape must face the unfortunate truth that he’s still a Death Eater, and unless he wants to die an agonizing useless death, he’s probably stuck being a Death Eater.

He believes that Lord Voldemort is unaware of his duplicity, and that’s why he’s still alive.

Lord Voldemort is perfectly aware of his duplicity, but finds his eternal suffering cathartic, and is saving Severus’ torture and death for some time when making an example of someone is particularly appropriate.

“Mother!”

Another, different, small girl approaches the inner circle. While also wearing expensive and embroidered clothing, unlike Harry’s, this girl’s robes have been tailored to fit her delicate form and feature the Black crest inscribed in a dark green. She also has a more delicate air to her rather than Harry’s starving, lean, frame honed by years of living in constant mortal peril. Between this and her silver, curling hair, almost blue in the right lighting, there is very little the two girls have in common feature wise.

“Mother,” The girl says, tugging on Bellatrix’s sleeve, “I can’t find Draco anywhere…”

This is Delphi LeStrange, she is seven years old. Aside from being eerily gifted in magic for her age, she’s also a parseltongue, and shares almost no features in common with Rodolphous LeStrange. Important to note, is that up until this point, she like the majority of the children, has not met Lord Voldemort in person.

However, her mother has told her, at every possible occasion, that Lord Voldemort is her father.

Lord Voldemort doesn’t know this.

Bellatrix slaps Delphi across the cheek, the hand mark red and glaring against her pale skin, and hisses out, “You do not talk to me here, brat!”

Bellatrix, as Delphi and Rodolphous are painfully aware, has good days and bad days. As Delphi clutches her cheek, eyes wide, she realizes that she has misjudged this terribly and that this has the makings of a very bad day. Wildly, she glances at the other men standing in the circle with champagne in their hands for support, “I’m… I’m sorry, mother, I didn’t mean it… I….”

None of them even blink.

Severus Snape, one of the few in the room who is capable of caring about a child’s wellbeing or suffering, has desensitized himself with years of being a double agent, torturing children, and teaching Potions at Hogwarts.

Lord Voldemort just raises his dark eyebrows and continues to wonder at the cultural differences between France and England, and how easy it might be to convince the aristocracy of France, always paranoid since the muggle revolution all those years ago, to overthrow their republic and crown him emperor.

Bellatrix, meanwhile, red faced and mortified, takes out her wand, and points it at her own daughter, “You want a lesson? Do you want to play with ickkle Draco?”

This is said in the sing-song voice that usually is followed by the severed limbs of grown men.

“No, no, mother, I’m sorry, I’m very sorry, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Bella, don’t get hasty, I’m sure Draco is around here somewhere…”

This is Lucius Malfoy, he’s spent most of his youth paying for his great mistake of joining a cult, so far he’s managed to convince himself it’s worth it, this victorious celebration as well as his good standing with Lord Voldemort seeming to make up for the civil war. However, most of the time, he considers himself lucky that he’s managed to come out relatively sane.

Unlike his sister in law, who is apparently dead-set on turning his niece into either a drooling vegetable through the cruciatus or a blood stain on his carpet.

“Shut up, Lucy!” Bellatrix bites out, swinging her wand wildly towards him, which is enough for him to raise his hands in defense and pray that Draco doesn’t manage to wander his way over here and into the line of fire.

The wand slowly turns back onto Delphi, “Does my ickkle, baby, girl want to play with the big girls now? Does she want to see how strong you have to be to serve our lord?”

Delphi looks torn between running and standing her ground, having long since learned that running is worse, but not quite sure that meeting out whatever spell is about to come out of her mother’s wand won’t be just as terrible.

Bellatrix starts the wand movements with a mad glean to her eyes, and as she does so, as her wand begins to glow in that split second there are various thoughts from many of the guests in the Malfoy manor where this celebratory event is being held.

Harry, looking over from the edge of the crowd, starts to move in for the circle of inner Death Eaters swiftly, a look of determination on her face as she recognizes the catalyst that is going to ruin everything.

Severus is looking away, out over the crowds, thinking that had his life gone any differently he might not have ever come to this place. He could have been married to Lily Evans, James Potter could have been thoroughly put in his place, he could have never even heard of Voldemort or his revolution, but instead he’s here.

Lucius is trying to pretend, for the sake of his own conscious, that he doesn’t have a niece.

And Lord Voldemort is wondering if, now that he’s an emperor, he has to humor his yes-men and sycophants.

However, ultimately, it’s Delphi who’s most important in this moment. Delphi who looks up, with terrified pale blue eyes, at a man she’s never met but she’s heard of every single day of her life, and pours all of her hopes, dreams, and her mother’s mad delusions into a single cry for help, “Father, please!”

And the party seems to stop completely.

“What?”

* * *

Seven years prior to the events at the Malfoy Manor.

The younger, dark haired, Lord Voldemort is bent over a desk in the only recently reclaimed and refurbished Riddle manor. A place he detests, but recognizes as having some worth given that he had only recently kidnapped a seemingly immortal toddler prophesized to destroy him with a power he was not capable of understanding.

And as much as his servants worship the ground he walks on there’s something about murdering babies in plain sight and rather gruesome manners that pushes credibility a little too far for his liking.

At the moment he’s left the wailing, defenseless, and hopefully soon dying, Harry Potter in some forgotten corner of the manor where she should be eaten by Nagini, fall down the stairs, or meet any number of unfortunate fates.

He’s also just concluded a meeting with his inner circle and is now reading through various reports from the field and trying to think how best to convert the auror population and which of those he will have no choice but to annihilate.

“My lord, what are you reading?”

He looks up, raised eyebrows, and catches sight of Bellatrix LeStrange standing in the doorway. Although, standing perhaps isn’t quite the right word, she’s leaning against the frame, one bare leg pushed out from beneath her frankly almost non-existent robes, and her breasts rising with each breath as she stares at him.

He looks down at his reports, then back at her, “Bellatrix, I thought I had dismissed you.”

For a moment, she looks stricken, she pales, becomes defensive, and splutters out, “My lord, I did not think, I was merely passing by on my way to the floo and caught sight of you and I…”

He holds up a hand, stopping her before she can demand punishment, and sighs, “It’s fine, don’t do it again.”

She nods heartily, the flush returning to her cheeks, and continues to stare at him while he returns his attention to the reports. She doesn’t leave.

“Was there something you wanted, Bella?”

She tilts her head, gives him a sultry look, and states, “My lord, you know you can ask me anything, to do anything, don’t you?”

Despite the awkwardness of this statement and Voldemort’s complete lack of understanding Bellatrix has been working on this line for at least two years, actively for the past three months. Rather, since the moment she first saw him, Bellatrix has wanted his babies.

Voldemort, unfortunately, takes her statement rather literally and thinks that he can ask anyone to do anything for him and they’ll do it. That’s why he’s the man he is today.

“Murder, torture… making love.”

Voldemort’s sex drive is almost non-existent, suppressed by his homicide drive as well as his revolutionary drive, that said this is perhaps the first time that someone has draped themselves half-dressed through his doorway bluntly demanding sex. And while he would rather read reports, or else finally kill that green-eyed toddler, this is the perhaps the first time that it’s been so clear that he could have sex if he chose to.

As if to emphasize this, Bellatrix steps in, leans over his desk, breasts pressed against those reports, and says, “You can make love to me, my lord, and satisfy needs you’ve been so selflessly neglecting.”

Pursing his lips, glancing down at his reports, then back up at her, it is in that moment that Voldemort decides to screw everything and just go for it.

Twenty minutes later, Bellatrix naked on his desk, his own pants down at his ankles, he looks down at her and says, “Get the fuck out of my office.”

Needless to say, the sex was not good, and he regrets it almost immediately after the fact.

He also regrets it seven years later when he’s informed he has a bastard daughter, by said bastard daughter, whose mother is about to torture her in front of everyone he’s manipulated or else terrified into respecting it.

* * *

Harry tackles Delphi out of the way of her mother’s torture spell, knocking Lucius Malfoy off balance, which unfortunately causes him to stumble into Bellatrix. This, in turn, causes Bellatrix’s aim to swerve, so that she’s instead pointing towards her own lord, Voldemort steps to the side, the spell hits against the wall, and a foreboding purple stain spreads.

This foreboding purple stain eats through the walls and floors, spreading quickly, and it quickly begins eating through the clothing (then skin) of those who are standing too close.

Harry pales significantly stares up at the stone-cold glare of her guardian, and begins to sweat, “I can explain.”

“Can you?” He asks, too calmly, in that emotionless tone that was anything but emotionless for the depth of the rage it contained.

“I just… I saw what was happening and I…”

He picks her up by the collar of her robes, picks up the blonde girl and throws her over one shoulder as if she was a sack of rice, and without even glancing at Lucius announces for the entire room to hear, “I’m afraid I must retire, Lucius, now that the celebrations have gotten out of hand. Do see to it that your sister-in-law is contained. And Bella… We’ll talk later.”

He apparates on the spot, leaving Lucius, Severus, and Bella behind along with all the others, including Bellatrix’s husband who has been staring at a painting for the past hour pretending to be intellectual.

Lucius, staring at the spreading stain, and his now ruined home, as well as those panicking and fleeing from it, gives Bellatrix a rather accusing glare.

Bellatrix doesn’t even bother to look at him.

* * *

Next time, on Arrested Revolution:

Lucius attempts to file an insurance claim for psychotic sister-in-laws. (“Yes, freak accident, have no idea how it happened… Oh, there is a policy for Bellatrix related disasters? Well, I’ll certainly take it then.”)

Bellatrix tries and fails to have sex for the second time on Voldemort’s desk. (“Is there anything, and I mean anything, that you need…”, Bellatrix is thrown through the window, ejected by the wards in Riddle manor.)

Severus is sent on an impossible and harrowing quest to the jungles of India. (“I’m sorry, sir, you want me to…”, “Retrieve the Sivalinga stone from the Pankot Palace, you’ll recognize it by the Indian wizards who rip out the hearts of their sacrifices to Kali, honestly Severus, one would think you were a spy for how thick you’re acting recently.”)

Voldemort finally tells Harry her origin story. (“And then, after killing both your relatives, I thought I’d play it safe and use the severing charm. You survived beheading, as well as suffocation, and the fifty other ways I killed you in those first few minutes and I could hardly let potential like that be squandered so I burned down the house and kidnapped you.”)

And Delphi realizes she’s made a huge mistake. (“Congratulations, your new name is Inevitable Disappointment. Would you like to ask why?” “Why, father?” “Because I will find you inevitably disappointing.”)

**Author's Note:**

> My excuse for Harry being fem, Voldemort getting saddled with too little girls is 10,000x more hilarious.
> 
> Thanks for reading, kudos, comments, and bookmarks are much appreciated.


End file.
